Games
by Queenafoster
Summary: In honor of the summer Olympics
1. Chapter 1

_**KING HARBOR INTERNATIONAL BEACH VOLLEYBALL TOURNAMENT  
ENTER NOW  
$10,000 FIRST PRIZE**_

Cody shifted the grocery bag from one arm to the other as he read the large placard in the surf shop window. He glanced up as Nick approached, thumbing through their mail. "Hey, Nick, did you see this?"

Nick quirked a brow as he spared a glance first at Cody, then the window. "Yeah." Short, to the point, and right back to the mail.

Cody waited a few seconds, hoping for a more enthusiastic response, and ended up just staring at his partner when nothing more was forthcoming. "Well? What do you think?"

Nick's forehead creased as he studied the envelopes, completely absorbed. "'Bout what?"

Cody huffed in resigned frustration. "About the tournament."

Nick finally looked at him, clearly confused. "What? Oh. Yeah, we should go. When is it?" Back to the mail.

Cody sighed again at his partner's distraction. "What are you looking for?"

Nick managed a wry shake of his head. "I was hoping that Marlon Carter actually put the check in the mail like he said he did. I ordered some _Mimi_ parts, and I'm not sure we'll have the cash to cover it." He bounced the envelopes against his thigh and headed down the promenade with a determined stride. "We did good work for him; is it too much to ask that he actually pay for it?"

Cody hurried to catch up. "Maybe he's got a temporary cash flow problem."

"Yeah, afternoons at the Blue Diamond Strip Club will do that to a guy."

Cody smiled and shrugged lightly. Hard to argue with Nick's logic. But, "I know how we could keep _Mimi_ in parts for a while."

Nick never even broke stride. "How's that?"

"If we won that volleyball tournament, she'd have ten grand to play with."

Nick shook his head slightly, "Would you be serious?"

That wasn't exactly the eager response Cody was hoping for. "I am being serious."

"Ah, c'mon."

"Why not? We're good."

Nick snorted, "Yeah, we're good."

"Come on, Nick; we could do it."

Nick stopped abruptly and turned to Cody. "We're decent against the regulars around here, Cody, but against a really good team? I don't think so."

Cody bounced his brows, "I bet we're better than you think."

"Look, man, I enjoy a good game as much as the next guy, but I need to believe we have at least a _chance_ of winning. I really don't have a good time when I get my ass handed to me on a platter." With that, he turned and walked off with the same focused pace.

Cody jogged to catch up, "Ah, c'mon, Nick. At least give us a shot. You don't even know how good we might be."

Nick sighed and finally slowed down a little. "Cody, with that kind of money as a prize, people from all over are gonna enter. International teams even. You don't honestly believe we'd have a chance against a couple of giants from South America, do you?"

Cody started to answer, but then he took a second to think. Nick might be right about teams coming from all over…but they could still make an effort. Ten grand was ten grand. "Maybe." A grin of excited encouragement.

Nick rolled his eyes, "Well, you're gonna have to find someone else to eat the sand with, buddy. I'm not doing it."

Cody had been pretty sure he could talk Nick around, but despite frequent encouragement and hopeful suggestions, his partner had remained adamant about not entering the tournament. And as much as Cody really wanted to test himself against the outside competition—and maybe win ten thousand bucks—he didn't want to do it without his partner. They'd occasionally played with other people, when one or the other was unavailable or injured, but neither of them was as good on their own. Passable, sure, but the two of them were much better players as a team. So Cody finally resigned himself to being on the sidelines for the big tournament.

And when he saw the size of some of the new teams on the beach in the weeks leading up to the tournament, he began to think maybe Nick had been right all along. His partner never said, 'I told you so'…but then, he didn't have to. No doubt, Nick could read Cody's disbelief when they passed the nets being played by guys that were six-eight, six-ten, even seven feet tall. Nick just elbowed Cody's arm, fought a smile, and kept walking without a word.

Cody was in the salon writing the client report for their last case, when he heard someone on the dock.

"Ahoy, _Riptide_. Anyone home?"

Cody glanced out the window to see two men on the dock looking over the boat. "Yeah! Just a sec!" He called down to Nick in the galley and Boz in the computer room, "Guys, we got company."

The three of them climbed to the wheelhouse, Cody leading the way. He looked over the railing. "Come aboard. Can we help you?"

Both men were quite tall, one with sandy hair starting to gray, the other with very dark skin, bald, his age impossible to determine but probably middle aged. Both were in excellent shape. They climbed on the boat and scrutinized Cody and Nick carefully.

After a few seconds, Cody became uncomfortable with their wordless examination and glanced at Nick who was glaring at the two men like they might be contagious.

Murray just looked at all four of them, confused. Finally, he broke the impasse of staring. "Gentlemen? Can we help you?"

The blond blinked and managed an embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry. That was incredibly rude." He elbowed the black man who snickered softly as he bowed his head in agreement.

"Pardon us for staring; you were recommended, but it would be necessary that you look the part." The black man's accent was faintly…British? Maybe. Maybe not. Definitely not American.

Murray continued to look baffled while Nick seemed to be deciding whether to ask them to sit or to toss them overboard.

Cody stepped in to see if he could clear some of the confusion. "I think maybe we missed something. _Who_ recommended us for _what_?"

Murray added his question, "And what do we need to look like?"

The tall blond held his hands up in surrender. "I apologize again. I'm Alex Reed; this is Jace Olatidoye. May we sit down and explain why we need your help?"

Cody waved them to the bench seat, and he, Nick, and Boz pulled up the deck chairs. "Mr. Reed, Mr.…? What was that again?"

The black man's teeth were brilliant white when he laughed. "Everyone in the states has trouble with it. Olatidoye. Oh-lah-tea-doy."

Cody tried it out on his tongue, and to his surprise, it came out completely correct. "Mr...Olatidoye?"

The man beamed in pleasure. "Perfect!"

Cody grinned in triumph at his partners. Murray laughed in delight; Nick smiled, but he still didn't take his eyes off their visitors.

Cody turned back to them. "I'm Cody Allen, this is Murray Bozinsky and Nick Ryder. So, what can we do for you?"

Reed and Olah-whatever…glanced at each other, and Reed took the lead. "We're from the California Beach Volleyball Association—the group that organized the King Harbor Beach Tournament. I'm told that you two play."

Cody blinked in surprise and glanced at his partners to see the same on their faces. "Sure. For fun. Never anything serious like what you're doing."

Reed nodded in understanding. "I don't know if you're aware of this, but organized beach volleyball has grown tremendously over the last few years. There's been some talk of trying to make it an Olympic sport."

Jace agreed enthusiastically. "That's one of the reasons for this tournament. You probably know that the Association has standardized the rules, but we've got to get more people involved. More people playing, more people watching. If we can make this into a sport that people come to see, when we apply for beach volleyball to be added as a demonstration event at the Olympics, hopefully we'll have some numbers to back up our submission."

Cody tried to picture beach volleyball being played at the Olympics. And then wondered briefly how it would be played if there was no beach nearby. Murray's eyebrows climbed all the way up to his hairline as he considered the idea.

Nick looked a little intrigued, but he continued to study their visitors. "Okay, that's great and all, but what's the problem and how do we fit into the solution?"

Cody could always count on Nick to cut right to the chase.

Reed nodded, "Of course. Just a little background on why we want so badly for the King Harbor Tournament to succeed."

"You're giving ten thousand dollars to the winners, right? Seems like that'll probably do the trick."

"We hope so. We wanted to attract the top teams from around the world to give them more U.S. exposure and also to recruit new fans."

"Okay. And…"

"And they're here. But…a few of them have received threats."

Cody stared as Murray sputtered indignantly, "What? Threats?"

"Yes. We've got teams here from the U.S., South America, Australia, New Zealand, and Japan. But several of them have received…warnings…that they should not compete."

"What kind of warnings?"

"Threats to them, their families. We've had three teams report it so far, but there might be more."

Murray started immediately, "Can you describe the threats?"

Reed answered, "This morning, Lucien McAvoy from Australia received a phone call warning him that something might happen to his wife."

Jace followed, "And the Brazilians, Carritas and Mendez, and the American team of Harwell and Wise both received written warnings."

Murray scooted to the edge of his chair, "Do you have them? Have they been analyzed?"

Reed and Jace shared a regretful glance, "No, we've not had time to have them professionally examined. This only started a couple of days ago. But we did bring them with us. We thought you might…?" Jace pulled a manila envelope from his shirt pocket.

Cody and Nick leaned over Murray's shoulders and read the two typed notes that were worded exactly the same: _"Drop out of the King Harbor Tournament or there will be consequences. This is real."_

Nick studied the note received by the American team, "Has anything like this ever happened before?"

Reed and Jace both looked unhappily baffled, "Not that we know of. At least the Association has never had it happen in any sanctioned tournament. And the three teams that have been threatened all deny any previous problems. They're naturally quite stunned."

Cody handed the Brazilian warning back to Murray and glanced at Nick before looking back to Reed and Jace. "Harwell and Wise…that's not Tim Harwell and Rusty Wise, is it?"

Jace nodded with another huge smile. "Yes, actually. They were the ones who recommended we talk to you."

Cody grinned at Nick. "Hey, remember that time we almost beat them? We took 'em to three games."

Nick's smile was a little sardonic, "Only because Rusty stepped on a piece of glass during the second game." He laughed involuntarily and looked back at their clients. "He finally put a sock on over the bandage to keep the sand out, and they killed us in the third game."

The two men on the bench seat laughed as Cody conceded the point. He shrugged; it was still a three game match regardless of the circumstances. And technically, Rusty broke the rules with the sock.

"Tim and Rusty were in the tournament office today when McAvoy came in to report the phone threat. We told them about the Brazilians, and they suggested we contact you."

Murray had returned the threatening notes to the envelope, "What about the police?"

Jace sighed, "We've notified them, of course, and they're in charge of tournament security, but the local constable, a rather disagreeable chap named Quinlan, tells me there's very little they can do if we are unable to suggest any viable suspects."

Cody studied their clients, "You clearly have an idea about how we should proceed."

Reed looked a question at Jace who nodded briefly, "Well, you're the professionals, of course, but we thought a good plan might be if the two of you entered the tournament."

Cody managed a quick glance at Nick whose brow drew down dramatically.

Jace shrugged minutely, "That would give you access to all the events, the teams. You would have a chance to observe everything, to see if there were any…I don't know…suspicious characters hanging about?"

After a quick glance at Boz, Cody caught Nick's eye. Cody could see that Nick was at least thinking about the idea. He was always the most difficult to convince when it came to taking a case, but he was also the one who got most riled by injustice. And threats really got up his nose. Added in the fact that the threats were made against their friends…

Cody glanced over, eyeing Nick... _Come on, buddy; this is a good plan._

Nick still looked unsure… _We don't know what we're getting into. The threats could be from anywhere._

Cody applied a little more pressure… _Tim and Rusty are already in the middle of it; we gotta help 'em._

Nick nodded and sighed in defeat… _Yeah, we have to do something._

Cody looked at Murray who had watched their silent conversation. He nodded briefly. Cody turned back to the two men, "We're in."

Nick looked resigned, but he brought up an issue, "Haven't you already got a full roster?"

Reed couldn't stop his relieved smile, "Yes, but we had a cancellation a few days ago. Did you know you can still get the chicken pox as an adult?"

Murray nodded quickly, but Cody's glance at Nick showed him just as surprised as Cody. Still, it wasn't necessary to notify their new clients that they hadn't known that little fact.

"So what's on the tournament agenda?" Count on Murray to plan their next step.

Reed pulled out a manila envelope and handed it over. "Here are the printed materials that we sent to the teams. There's also a list of all the teams entered in the tournament, where they're from, and how well they've performed recently. While the association has no official ranking at this time, it will be clear almost immediately who the top teams are by their records and tournament finishes."

Jace took up the conversation, "There are practices and workouts planned for the next two days and a reception Friday night—a final get together before the tournament gets started on Saturday. Most of the teams already know each other from other events. It will give you guys a chance to get acquainted with them. And Tim and Rusty can introduce you around, give you some inside information."

Cody looked at Nick, "Doesn't Tim's mom live in…?"

Nick scratched behind one ear, "Uh, Hermosa, I think. And Rusty's folks are from New Mexico or somewhere like that."

Reed glanced at Jace, looking pleased, "That's right. They said you'd probably remember." He reached in a pocket, pulling out a slip of paper. "They're at Tim's for the rest of the afternoon if you want to call."

Cody took the paper and stood to shake their clients' hands. Boz and Nick followed, and they watched the two men climb the companionway and head toward the beach.

Murray fingered the envelope with the event information, clearly ready to get started, "What do you think, guys?"

Nick glared at Cody suspiciously, "You didn't set this up just to get me in this stupid tournament, did you?"

Cody smiled broadly and dropped an arm around Nick's shoulders, "Would I do something that devious?"

Nick looked dubious, "In a heartbeat. Don't play innocent with me; I've known you too long."

Cody just laughed and climbed up to the wheelhouse, feeling Nick's laser stare all the way. Cody had to admit it was rather poetic how things worked out sometimes.


	2. Chapter 2

A trim petite woman answered the door in Hermosa later that afternoon. "You must be Nick and Cody."

Cody nodded with an easy grin, "Yes, ma'am. Cody Allen."

She invited them in and directed them to her living room. "I'm Joyce, Tim's mother. Please make yourselves comfortable; I'll get the boys." She went further into the house as Cody glanced around the bright, sunny room and examined a mantle full of pictures. The majority of the photos were of Tim through the years, the most recent being Tim and Rusty accepting a large trophy at some indecipherable beach.

"Hey, guys! Glad you could make it!"

Cody turned to shake hands with Tim Harwell and Rusty Wise, guys he and Nick used to play against frequently a few years back.

"Can I get you boys some soft drinks or iced tea?"

"Tea would be great, Mom. Thanks."

Tim's eyes followed his mother as she left the room, and Cody could easily see that Tim didn't want his mom to hear what they were about to discuss.

When Tim turned back around, his eyes were serious. "Thanks for coming."

Nick checked the hall again to make sure Joyce was gone. "What happened?"

"This morning, we had our usual workout and headed inside tournament headquarters to cool down. Rusty opened his locker and found the note telling us to drop out. We took it into the office and found out that there had been a couple of other warnings. Alex and Jace said the cops weren't being very helpful, so we thought of you."

Cody studied them, "And nothing like this has ever happened before?"

Rusty shook his head, "No. Never. I mean—"

Nick cleared his throat quietly, cutting Rusty off just before Tim's mom brought in a tray of refreshments.

"I brought cookies, too."

Nick's eyes widened as he selected one. Just before he took a bite, he looked up at her in astonishment, "This smells like…anise?"

Tim's mother grinned in delight, "That's right. How did you know?"

"Growing up, this lady in my neighborhood, she made the most amazing cookies. There was nothing else like them. She said she used anise for flavor. I always remembered that."

She gave her son the gimlet eye before turning back to smile at Nick. "How do mine compare?"

Nick took a bite and closed his eyes, chewing in ecstasy. "I've gone to heaven. These are amazing."

Mrs. Harwell beamed at Nick and managed a grin at the rest of them. "Holler if you boys need anything."

Finishing the cookie, Nick leaned over to watch her leave and then turned back, "She's gone."

The three of them were staring at Nick. Cody lifted one brow, " _Anise_?"

Nick huffed, "You never had Mrs. Cheswick's cookies, all right? These are just as good."

Tim laughed, "They are pretty amazing. I'm just lucky we're not hanging around my mom's kitchen all the time. I'd be as big as a house."

They all breathed a laugh, Cody remembering that he could no longer eat the way he had ten years ago either as he picked up a cookie for himself. He took a bite and immediately understood the rave reviews.

Nick eyed the hall again, "Rusty, you were saying…"

Rusty nodded, "We've played all over the world, been to twenty different countries for tournaments, and it's always been fun. We get along with most of the other teams pretty well. There's never been any serious problems."

Cody perked up, "Who do you _not_ get along with?"

"Well, Carritas can be a real jerk. He doesn't like to lose. We've beaten them twice this year; they've beaten us once. But they got threatened, too.

Nick spoke up, "What about that Australian team? McAvoy and…"

Tim answered, "McAvoy and Patterson. Nice guys. Never had a problem with them."

"Do you know of any issues between them and Carritas?"

Tim and Rusty glanced at each other and shook their heads, "No, but…"

"We're not really that close. Never heard anything like that though."

Cody pursed his lips, "I'm not sure how to ask this so you feel comfortable answering. Our third partner is back on the boat entering data in a computer from the lists Mr. Reed and…uh… _Jace_ provided. It seems to indicate that the three teams that have been threatened are among the best on the circuit. Is that a fair statement?"

They appeared to consider and glanced at each other again. Rusty nodded, "Anson and Jeffers from Texas, and Boyle and Radford from New Zealand are also really good."

Tim looked worried, "You think they've been threatened too?"

Nick shrugged, "Or they still might be."

Cody pulled out his pocket notebook and wrote down the names. "Can I use your phone?"

Tim nodded and led him to the hall phone. Cody called the boat. "Hey, Boz, American team Anson and Jeffers, and Boyle and Radford from New Zealand."

"New Zealand! Oh, Cody, have you ever been there? The photos I've seen are just—"

"Murray. Just the names, okay?"

"Oh, sure, Cody. No problem."

"Okay, later."

Cody hung up and looked back at his friends. "Okay, we've got some stuff to work on, some ideas to toss around, see what comes up. If you get anything else, you've got our number, right?"

They both nodded as they stood and shook hands with Nick and Cody. Nick snatched a couple more cookies from the plate.

Tim smiled, "Watch this." He raised his voice, "Mom, Nick and Cody are leaving."

In less than five seconds, the petite woman bustled into the room with a foil wrapped package. "Here, Nick, some cookies to take home."

Cody felt just a tiny flare of jealousy as Nick's face blossomed into a huge, teeth-filled grin. He leaned down to kiss her cheek, "You're the best, Mrs. H. Thank you." He glanced back up at Tim, "Can I adopt your mom? You wouldn't mind a brother at this point, would you?"

Mrs. Harwell blushed prettily, "Oh, hush now. You come back anytime, Nick." She pointed to Tim, "My son doesn't necessarily have to be here for you to visit."

Tim wrapped a proprietary arm around his mother, "Quit trying to steal my mom, Ryder."

Cody pulled at Nick's bicep, "I can't take him anywhere. Sorry."

She waved, smiling, " _Anytime_ , Nick. Come back anytime."

Nick waved back, keeping a death grip on his cookies.

Once they got back in the 'Vette, Cody stared at him, "You gonna share?"

Nick put the package under his seat, "No."

"Not at all?"

"I might give Boz one."

"Just Boz? Just one?"

Nick checked the traffic before pulling out, "You made fun of me. Why should I share?"

"'Cause I'm your partner. I'd share with you."

Nick pursed his lips, "I don't know, man; these cookies are _good_."

Later that night on the boat, Boz had finished a statistical ranking the teams entered in the tournament. Tim and Rusty were at the top, then the other two teams that had been threatened, followed by the other two Tim and Rusty had suggested. After that were three or four more teams that Boz felt were a second tier group, and then everybody else was more or less in the same general ball park. Cody didn't ask why Allen and Ryder weren't even on the list.

Murray munched a couple of Nick's cookies, "I've been thinking about motive, guys. Why would you want a certain team to drop out of the tournament?"

Nick shrugged, "To rig the outcome."

Cody nodded, "You _want_ someone to win or you _don't_ want someone to win." He'd managed to grab two more of Nick's sweet little morsels.

Murray tapped his chin thoughtfully, "Maybe your son or brother is part of a worse team, and you want to improve his chances?"

Nick studied the ceiling, "To distract another team so they don't play very well. Maybe you can beat a better team if they're worried about something else."

Cody let his mind wander, "So the cops will be stuck on guard duty instead of working cases."

"So beach volleyball won't become an Olympic sport."

Cody slowly turned to stare at Nick to see if he was serious. Murray had the same doubtful look on his face.

Nick shrugged, "What? Just throwing out ideas here."

Boz raised his brows and faked a smile, "I think that one's statistically improbable."

"Yeah, put that one in the unlikely column."

Nick rolled his eyes and surreptitiously rewrapped his cookies. Cody wondered briefly where he would try to hide them. "Okay, the most obvious answer would be gambling. There's a lot of money to be made on a rigged tournament. Higher odds on lesser teams means a bigger payday."

Nick nodded, "Unless you need the prize money yourself. If you can get some of the other teams to drop out or not play as well, you've got a better chance of winning."

Murray propped his chin in his hand as he studied his printouts. "Those two possibilities seem to be the most likely motives. I think you should try to find out if the other top teams—Anson and Jeffers, and Boyle and Radford—have received any threats."

Cody nodded, wondering what the next day would bring. He and Nick had a workout with the other teams then a practice match.

As the two of them started out of Murray's stateroom, Cody caught Nick's arm. "Don't think you can hide those cookies from me. This is my boat, and I know all the hiding places."

Nick narrowed his eyes and smiled slightly. _Game on!_


	3. Chapter 3

He and Nick had been working out together for years at this point, and neither paid much attention to his partner's activities other than to make sure he was safe. Nick tended to do longer runs at a slower pace while Cody did sprints. Nick used heavier weights with fewer reps while Cody did the opposite. When they worked out together, it generally only meant in the same geographic location.

Reed and Olatidoye had scheduled Cody and Nick in a practice match against a duo from Mexico. The two organizers weren't far away as Cody got ready to serve, and he felt their observation. The Mexican team handled the serve easily, and Nick managed to dig out their return. But when Cody tried to spike, the taller of the two Mexicans went up for a block, and he and Nick were down from the start.

Unfortunately, it was pretty clear from that difficult beginning that the Mexicans were the better team. He and Nick played pretty well, but their opponents were bigger, faster, and stronger. Still, it wasn't a lopsided defeat, and Cody was pretty pleased with how they played. When they finished, they shook hands with the other team and grabbed their gear. A few other teams had been watching, checking out the competition, and Cody and Nick got a couple of handshakes as they left the court. As they walked into the tournament headquarters building, Cody caught a nod of approval from Reed as they passed his office. At least they hadn't embarrassed themselves.

In the showers, Cody kept an ear out for any gossip, but most of the chatter was about the teams that were entered, who was missing the tournament, and who was playing well or poorly right then.

Nick was waiting when Cody finished changing, and they headed back out to watch some of the other teams in their practice matches. They split up, Nick going to see Carritas and Mendez while Cody went to watch McAvoy and Patterson.

When he reached their court, Cody found Murray already there, taking notes. Boz caught his eye for half a second and then went right back to serious scribbling. Cody wasn't sure what his partner was doing, but he decided to stay out of it until Boz made clear his intentions and if he needed Cody's help. Sitting a couple rows higher, Cody watched the match and the other people on the sand, trying to see if anyone was paying undue attention to the Australian team. Unfortunately, everyone in their vicinity was watching. The Australians really were that good.

A tall, beautiful red head sat a couple yards from Murray. She was watching the match intently and frequently caught the eye of one of the men on the court. Watching their connection for a while, Cody finally figured that it must Lucien McAvoy and his wife.

Cody watched as Murray leaned toward her, "Excuse me, you seem to know what's going on; can I ask you some questions?"

She drew back, "I'm sorry?"

"I don't know very much about volleyball, and I could really use some help."

"I suppose." She caught McAvoy's eye on the sand and waved slightly for him to stay put.

"You've got an Australian accent; isn't one of these teams from Australia?"

She couldn't help but smile as she nodded at the tall man who was evidently trying to decide if he was going to play ball or charge the stands. "That's my husband, Luke McAvoy. I'm Sharon."

Cody would never admit it, but he'd always been a little jealous at Murray's particular ability with women. His geeky partner didn't even realize his own power. If he wasn't all nervous about asking her out, almost every woman he met was almost immediately at ease as she quickly realized there was nothing to fear in sweet Murray Bozinsky. And Sharon McAvoy reacted the same way as Cody saw her relax and slide a little closer to Boz.

"I'm M-M-Millard…uh, Fillmore, and I work for a newspaper in Bakersfield. My editor planned to send the sports guy down to cover this tournament, but his wife just had a baby, so here I am."

"What kind of stories do you usually write, Mr. Fillmore?"

"Please call me Millard. Or Murray. See, it's Millard _Murray_ Fillmore. My mother always called me Murray."

She smiled, trying to keep from laughing. "Murray, it is."

"Yes. Well, uh, I'm a court reporter. _Not_ the volleyball court or the basketball court or the tennis court. The actual, you know, _court_ court. Like judges and juries. And lawyers and bailiffs and…"

She nodded again, biting her lips together.

"So I'm completely out of my element here."

"You don't look like you get to the beach very much."

Boz looked disconcerted, "Actually, I do spend quite a bit of time on the sand."

She looked confused, "Really? On the map of California, it appeared that Bakersfield was somewhat inland? Am I wrong?"

Cody wanted to butt in and remind Murray about the story he was spinning, but he also wanted to see how his partner would get out of the little corner he'd just painted himself in. It was kind of fun watching a scam in progress without being involved.

"What? Oh! Yes, it is, but I meant…desert sand. Bakersfield is fairly close to Death Valley and the Mohave, so we have a lot of…sand."

"Oh, I see. Yes, of course."

Cody swiped a hand over his mouth to hide his grin. Murray had such a disarming, genuine way about him, that people just naturally believed even the wildest stories.

It wasn't long before Sharon McAvoy was explaining all the ins and outs of beach volleyball to Murray who was asking questions and taking careful notes, completely convincing her that he had no idea what was going on. The irony was that Murray had memorized the beach volleyball rule book not long after moving onto the _Riptide,_ and he kept careful track of any changes. Anytime an issue came up in a game Nick and Cody were playing, Boz was generally on hand to make a ruling, and he was considered the final word in any game on the beach.

While Murray worked on getting information from Sharon McAvoy, Cody turned his attention back to the beach. On the sand, Lucien McAvoy and his partner, Ian Patterson, were easily the better team, but McAvoy was distracted. He was a little slow to react to the ball, and his shots occasionally went wide. Patterson didn't get angry or frustrated though, he just quietly encouraged his partner who only got more frustrated as the match went on.

Finally, the Australians won the match and grabbed their gear. Sharon McAvoy took Millard Murray Fillmore down to meet her husband. He initially seemed suspicious, but before long, Boz had convinced him of the clueless reporter story as well. After the couple left, Murray climbed up to sit next to Cody.

"Well?"

"She didn't mention the threat against her, but she said that Luke wasn't playing well because he was worried about some stuff at home. I'll see her again though, and maybe I can get more out of her later."

"Did you ask how he and his partner get along with the other teams? Carritas and Mendez?"

"I asked about other teams in general. I thought she might get suspicious if I asked about specific problems. But she said they all got along pretty well."

Cody glanced around the sand again, "I'd hoped that we'd be able to see anyone who looked out of place, but pretty much everybody seems like they're ready for a match. Well, everybody but you."

Murray looked a little distressed for half a second, but then he rolled his eyes and conceded the point. "Where's Nick?"

Cody stood and wiped the sand from the back of his shorts. "He went to watch Carritas and Mendez. Let's go find him."

Murray stowed his note pad, and they headed to the other courts, looking for a crowd. Instead, they found one breaking up.

Nick saw them coming and waited up in the bleachers, his elbows propped on his knees. "Hey. How'd you make out?"

Cody plopped down and leaned back against the row of seats behind them. "I don't think the Australian team has anything to fear from you and me, buddy."

Nick grinned at the understatement and nodded agreement. "Yeah, these two guys could probably have a cookout during the match and still win hands down."

Cody winced, "That good, huh?"

"'Fraid so. You know what was odd, though? Most teams talk to each other, you know, yell and stuff? Not these two. Almost completely silent on the court. Every now and then a quiet little chat between plays, but otherwise, it was just hand signals."

"That would be…weird." Cody couldn't imagine a match where he and Nick weren't talking and calling out the whole time. And in the games they usually played, there was generally a lot of teasing with the other team as well.

Nick shrugged his agreement and complete lack of understanding of the Brazilians.

Cody elbowed Nick, "Let me introduce you to Millard Murray Fillmore, ace reporter for _The Bakersfield Californian._ "

"Millard…Fillmore. I know that name. Wasn't he…?"

Boz nodded, "The thirteenth president. It just popped out. But I figured a woman from Australia probably wouldn't have heard of a fairly unsuccessful, one-term American president from the nineteenth century."

"McAvoy's wife?"

"Yeah. She's really nice, and he seems to be, too. But they're on their guard, and I didn't get very much."

Cody squeezed his shoulder, "You did pretty good, though." Cody glanced around the sand, completely devoid of any suspicious people. "You know what I'm thinking, Nick?"

"Yeah."

When Nick didn't say anything else, Cody and Boz turned as one to stare at their partner. "You do?"

"Yeah."

Cody met Murray's eyes for a split second, and Boz took the lead. "What's Cody thinking, Nick?"

Nick smirked, "That we should go see Jimmy Wu."

Cody slumped and rolled his eyes. He nodded at Murray's questioning glance. Nick breathed a laugh.

Murray grinned, "I'd hate for you guys to try to hide anything from each other. You think alike." He paused, " _I_ should have thought of Jimmy Wu. He's the biggest bookie on the beach. Of course he'd be taking bets on this tournament."

Cody nodded, "If he finds out someone's trying to rig the outcome, he might tell us who's laid down the most money. Who has the most to lose and gain."

Nick scratched his neck absently, "Tricky part's gonna be convincing him to stay out of it and let us figure out who's trying to rig the odds."

"Yeah."

Jimmy Wu worked out of the back of a video store in Torrance. Cody followed Nick to the rear door and waited.

A very large sumo type answered their knock, "Yeah?"

Nick looked up—way up, "We need to see the man."

"'Bout what?"

"The volleyball tournament."

Sumo eyed them both then grudgingly allowed them inside. A few desks were occupied by neatly dressed young Asian men and one young woman, all scouring various newspapers and sports magazines, working calculators, checking lists and tables, taking constant phone calls, and making notes. On the wall were a dozen televisions, tuned to different sports and games. In the very back was a small, thin, middle-aged man, Jimmy Wu. Nick and Cody threaded their way through the office to his desk and waited.

After a minute, the man glanced up from his paperwork for half a second then went right back to it. "Yes?"

Nick eyed Cody and stepped back slightly.

Cody cleared his throat, "Mr. Wu? I'm Cody Allen, and this is my partner, Nick Ryder. We're—"

"I know who you are."

"…You do?"

"You're private heat from King Harbor, right?"

Cody glanced at Nick in surprise, "Yeah. How did…?"

"In my business, it pays to be well informed."

"But we're not in your business."

"Nevertheless, I keep track of current events. I've seen you in the paper several times."

Nick looked dumfounded, and Cody would admit he was stunned. To his knowledge, they'd never crossed paths with the man professionally. But anyway…"Okay. Well. We were hoping you might help us out with an investigation."

Wu finally put down his pen and sat back to look at them. "I'm interested in why you believe I might be of assistance."

Cody glanced at Nick to double check before proceeding. "We think someone is trying to rig the King Harbor Beach Volleyball Tournament."

Wu's eyes narrowed slightly, "How?"

"By threatening some of the top teams to get them to drop out."

"That could be…disruptive."

Nick spoke up, "We were hired by the organizers to find out who's behind it."

Wu shifted his attention to Nick, "And you thought I might be able to give you some ideas about who would benefit from an altered outcome."

Cody nodded, "Seemed logical."

"Why would I help you when I can use that information myself?"

Cody spread his hands, "If my partners and I find the people responsible for the threats, we'll keep you out of it. You stay clean. Off the cops' radar."

"But it would not help my business if these individuals think I'm ignorant of their activities. Others might attempt the same plan."

"I'm sure others have already attempted that in the past and probably will again. And I'm also sure you could find a way to let it be known that you had a hand in the apprehension of the perpetrators. A man of your abilities and range could certainly ensure that such a message is received."

Wu appeared to consider this. "It could also be that an outside party is responsible for these threats. Perhaps someone from out of town has made a significant wager on the outcome. I'm not the only agent for such a transaction."

Cody smiled genially, "I'm sure you have contacts and could find out. Other people in your line of work would also have a vested interest in protecting the results of this tournament. You could persuade your fellow agents, I'm sure."

Wu studied Cody, then Nick for a moment. Then he nodded and reached to shake hands. "If you didn't have a reputation for doing your job well, I would not agree to help you. Let me make some calls. Come back tomorrow morning, and I'll have your information."

Cody started to nod, but Nick interrupted, "We've already got something in the morning. Can our other partner come instead?"

"Bozinsky, right? Of course. Tell him I look forward to meeting him."

They thanked him and slid past Sumo, still on guard at the door. Once they got back in the Jimmy, Nick stared at the building. "That was…not what I expected."

Cody nodded, "It was like an insurance office. With sports."

"Just business, I guess."

"Yeah."

Nick shrugged as Cody started the truck.


	4. Chapter 4

That evening found them back at tournament headquarters, examining another threatening note.

Murray slid the paper into a plastic bag with a pencil eraser then examined it carefully. "You say this was found by Steve Jeffers in his hotel room?"

"Not just his hotel room, but taped to the mirror in his _bathroom_."

Cody blew out a long breath, "That means whoever's doing this has reach."

Nick nodded, "Yep. That far inside the room sends a message that there's nowhere safe. The intended receiver just feels violated and scared."

Reed looked worried, "He and his partner brought it right over. They're thinking of leaving. I didn't know if we should tell them that other teams have received threats, too. I don't know what to do."

Nick sighed, "We've gotta call Quinlan."

Cody winced and shook his head in regret. Murray shrugged slightly, looking resigned.

Reed dialed the phone to make the notification while the rest of them continued to discuss the case.

Cody looked at Olatidoye, "You know these guys. It's really your decision about whether to tell the other teams. How do you think they'll take it?"

Nick rolled his shoulders, loosening his neck, "We might be alerting the guilty party if someone in the tournament is involved."

Olatidoye looked alarmed, "Surely you don't think another team is responsible for this."

Murray shook his head slightly, "We're not ruling out anything yet. Someone might be desperate for that prize money. Like Eduardo Carritas. My research shows that his family in Brazil has some sizable debts. And there are several players who owe quite a bit in child support. Two are going through a divorce, one is getting married. There's any number of reasons why someone might need ten thousand dollars quickly."

Jace looked at Reed in dismay, "I just can't see that as a possibility. We're all a big family."

"Families can have a falling out. And sometimes panic can produce unpredictable actions."

Shortly thereafter, Quinlan breezed in. When he spotted Cody and the guys, he stuck on a bogus smile and sauntered over. "I should have known the _whole_ volleyball team would be here. This is right up your strand of sand, isn't it?"

Reed bristled, "We hired them to investigate when you refused to do so, Officer."

Quinlan bristled and focused on Reed. "That's _lieutenant._ And while I'm sorry that I couldn't be more helpful when you called the first time, I couldn't investigate the whole beach, now could I? Perhaps you'd prefer that I shut down your little tournament while I figure out what's going on?"

Jace stepped in front of Reed, halting his aggressive move against Quinlan. "Sir, someone suggested _these_ gentlemen might be of assistance, so we hired them to help. And I think they have."

Quinlan threw his hands up in sarcastic surrender, "Well, they're the best bums on the beach; I'm sure you got yourself a bargain. Now, did you get me down here to play games, or do you have something I can work with?"

Murray held up the plastic bag, "Lieutenant, here's the latest threat that was received. This one came to another American team, Anson and Jeffers. It was found in Steve Jeffers's bathroom, so that would indicate a possible illegal entry, right?"

Quinlan dropped a little of his typical attitude, reaching to take the bag. "I've not received any reports from the hotels."

Jace shook his head, "I don't think they told anyone. Jeffers said he found the note, showed it to his partner, and they came directly here."

"We'll need to investigate the room, the lock. Check with hotel security. Talk to this Jeffers guy and his partner. Get fingerprints."

Nick folded his arms, "We were just discussing whether or not the other teams should be told about these threats. If it's someone on the inside, we might be informing the perpetrators that we're on to their game."

"Are you asking _my_ opinion, flyboy?" Quinlan put his hand to his chest in sarcastic delight.

Nick was working hard to keep his anger in check—never an easy accomplishment when he was around Quinlan. " _You're_ in charge of security."

Quinlan dropped the act. "Yeah, but this ain't _my_ tournament. That decision is up to Misters Reed and Oh-lahty-dahty here. I don't know these other volleyball players like I know you clowns." He turned to leave, taking the note with him. He stopped at the door, serious now. "But if it was me, I'd want to know if my butt was on the line. Now, where can I find this guy, Jeffers?"

Reed glared at Quinlan, "First office on the left."

"Gotcha." A cynical smile and then he was gone.

Jace shook his head slightly, "Is he always like that?"

Cody just felt tired and said the first thing that came to mind, unsurprised when all three detectives answered in unison, "Yeah."

About that time, Tim and Rusty stuck their heads in the office. "Did I just see Lieutenant Quinlan come out of here?"

"Has there been a break in the case?"

Cody eyed his friends, "No. Another threat."

"Who was it this time?"

Reed dropped to the seat behind his desk, "Anson and Jeffers."

Nick spoke up, "Hey, Tim. These gibrones, they threatened McAvoy's wife. Your mom could be in danger, too."

Tim's eyes lit up in worry, and he stared in panic at his partner.

Murray looked sympathetic, "Maybe you should tell her."

Cody nodded, "Or have her stay with family."

After a second to think, Tim shook his head sadly, "She's been looking forward to this tournament for months. Can't wait to see us on home sand. I can't send her away."

Nick looked concerned, "But don't you think you should at least tell her? Give her the choice?"

Tim seemed torn, "Even if I did, I don't think she'd leave. She's a tough lady. When my dad split, she never asked for help from anyone. She's independent and stubborn."

Cody answered, "Then she needs to be on the lookout."

Murray nodded in agreement.

Tim studied all three detectives and then turned to Rusty, "You agree?"

"I know you don't want to scare her, but…"

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. She deserves to know. I'll tell her tonight."

That night when Nick was in the shower, Cody did a careful search of the closet and under Nick's bunk, looking for the stash of cookies. Then, because he knew Nick was devious, he did the same under his own bunk. Still no cookies. Before they'd left that morning, he'd check the most likely place he could think of—the cookie jar. It was an old, half-gallon pickle jar he'd brought to the _Riptide_ from when he'd lived with Byron Monk. Cody figured there was a fifty-fifty chance Nick would put the cookies in the most obvious place simply because it was too obvious. But they weren't there—nor anywhere else in the galley.

And it didn't appear that Nick had secreted them in their cabin either. But there were lots of other hiding places on the boat. Cody wasn't even close to giving up.


	5. Chapter 5

During their final practice match the following morning, the team of Allen and Ryder got slaughtered by the duo of Eduardo Carritas and Ignacio Mendez. Nick hit the ground so often his eyes were watery and blood shot from sandy grit, and Cody was spitting out tiny grains from where they had gotten stuck between his teeth and gums. It was the most humbling day Cody had ever spent on the beach, and he really couldn't wait for the match to be over.

At some point midway through the second game, he glanced at Nick, not sure whether his partner would be angry or disheartened by the way they were getting thumped. But when Nick felt his gaze, he looked back, shook his head slightly, and grinned. And after they'd been scored on yet again, Nick walked over with a wry smile, "Almost over, big guy."

Cody grinned back and hunkered down to finish out the game. You had to love a guy who'd keep giving his all in a match they were destined to lose from the moment they stepped on the sand. No matter how many times they each ended up doing a face plant…no matter that friends and neighbors were in the stands to see their humiliation…no matter the circumstances, Nick was in it till the end. Yeah, they were getting creamed, but with Nick's Never-Say-Die attitude, Cody would continue to fight the good fight regardless. And after all, it wasn't really important whether they won or lost the match. They were there to find out who was threatening their friends and the other players. What was a little embarrassment compared to that? Still, if Cody was going to get beaten this badly, he'd rather do it with Nick by his side.

Murray was waiting at volleyball headquarters when they got out of the locker room. "Hey, guys. I heard you got…um…" He trailed off.

"Yeah, it wasn't one of our better days, Boz. Who'd you hear the bad news from?"

"Well, Carl at the hotdog stand. And Vinnie in the Fish Market. Shona who sells ice cream. And Terry who drives the tram. And—"

Nick just rolled his eyes and sighed. Cody winced, "Okay, okay, never mind. What'd you find out at Jimmy Wu's?"

His eyes blazed with excitement. "Oh, I got some really good stuff. There are several people who stand to make _quite_ a lot of money on the outcome of this tournament."

Cody pursed his lips, "Did Wu make inquiries of his…associates?"

Boz nodded, "He said that most of them were glad to give him the information once they found out about the threats."

Nick's face tightened in concentration. "Did he have any likely suspects?"

Another nod, "Several from his own clients and a few from other bookies he talked to. I really need to get back to the boat and start working on background for these people. I just wanted to check in with you guys and maybe see Sharon McAvoy."

Nodding, Cody rubbed his hands together and looked at Nick. "What about us, buddy? What are we doing next?"

His partner stretched out his neck, taking a second to think…which generally meant trouble. Or a lot of fun. Could go either way.

Cody kept an eye out at the end of the lockers. Nick's idea had been to check out Eduardo Carritas's locker. Well, that was actually his second idea. His first had been to break into the man's hotel room. Even though Reed and Olatidoye didn't think any of the players were involved, Nick and Cody still needed to investigate Carritas after finding out how badly his family needed money. So they snuck into Reed's office and lifted a list of where each team was staying. Turned out Carritas was staying at the same place as Anson and Jeffers. Which was a problem. After the break-in and warning left in the bathroom—and Quinlan's visit last night—hotel security would be heightened. Plus, it was a hotel where Nick regularly trawled for charters, and the hotel staff knew Nick on sight. So his second idea was to go through the man's locker at tournament headquarters which he was doing while Cody stood watch.

"This guy doesn't keep much stuff in his locker." Nick sounded a little frustrated.

"Neither do we."

"Yeah, but we live a quarter mile away."

"His hotel is even closer."

"We're gonna have to check his room."

Just then, Cody felt a very sharp blade pressed to the side of his nose. "Nick."

"Yeah?"

Cody was trying hard not to breathe. Or sweat. Or raise his voice in any way that might startle the hand that held the knife. "Nick?"

"I'm almost done, man. What?"

"Can you come here, please?"

The locker slammed, and Cody heard Nick approach from behind. "What—"

Cody felt Nick's quick glance before his partner focused on the man holding the knife. Cody couldn't take his eyes off the blade and didn't yet know who it was.

"Okay, uh, why don't we all just calm down and talk about this rationally?" To hear Nick as the voice of reason was unusual to say the least, but as Cody's throat was completely without moisture at the moment, his partner would have to carry the ball.

"But I am not feeling very calm right now." Accented voice. South of the border, but how far south, Cody wasn't sure.

Nick's voice was soothing. "Okay, we're not armed, neither of us. Just don't cut him, okay?"

Slowly, the knife lowered, and Cody scrunched his nose in relief and started to breathe a little easier. He turned his head slightly and looked up to see all six foot, ten inches of Ignacio Mendez still holding the knife, looking very menacing.

"You." Mendez lifted his chin at Nick, "I have seen you watching us."

Nick tried for a smile, but didn't quite pull it off, "Sure, I've been watching. Gotta check out the competition, right? Not that it helped us this morning, but—"

Mendez narrowed his eyes at the pathetic excuse. "And now, I catch you breaking into my partner's locker."

"Was that his? I thought—"

"Thought what? That you could leave another warning? Afraid he didn't get the message since we are still here?"

Cody caught Nick's eye and then turned back to Mendez. Cody held up his hands in conciliation. "Okay, wait, you got this all wrong."

"I think not. You are new here; this is your first tournament. The other teams, most of us know each other already, but we don't know you. The players, we look out for each other. This may be your home beach, but you are outsiders at this tournament. Do not think you can come in, leave your threats, and expect us to drop out so you can win and look like bigshots. I could call out right now, and a dozen players will be here to back me up in less than five seconds."

Cody let out a deep breath, "Just let us explain, okay? Then you can call out if you want. But I promise you'll be satisfied with the explanation."

Mendez's broad shoulders and chest relaxed slightly with his bare nod, but he kept the knife out and available.

Cody tried a small smile, "Alex Reed and Jace Olatidoye hired us to find the source of the threats that have been made against you and some of the other teams."

"Hired? What do you do?"

"We're private detectives—not the police. We investigate only what we're paid to investigate." …Well…that wasn't _entirely_ accurate, but Cody didn't think that full disclosure would help their situation right now.

"How do I know this is true?"

"You can ask Alex or Jace. You trust them. We're also friends with Tim Harwell and Rusty Wise. This is Tim's hometown, too; we used to play them before they started playing internationally. They recommended us to Alex and Jace. Ask them."

"If this is so, why were you breaking into our lockers? Did you think we sent ourselves the threat?"

Cody wasn't sure how best to frame his answer without sounding accusatory. He needed to step carefully. "We found out that your partner's family is in deep debt. He really needs the prize money, and your chances of winning increase if the other top teams drop out. He could have sent himself the threat to throw off suspicion. We needed to check out the possibility."

Mendez studied them for half a second and then snickered. That turned into a chuckle and then into such a laugh that the big man could hardly stand up. Cody gently pushed away the hand holding the knife and tried a hopeful smile when Mendez paused in his mirth. Nick pulled Cody back a couple steps to get them both out of Mendez's albatross reach, but their opponent just continued laughing and folded the blade back into the handle before shoving it in his pocket.

After a bit, Mendez was finally able to pull himself back under control. He crossed to the bench behind them, motioning Nick and Cody to join him. Nick's gaze was wary, but Cody was pretty sure the danger had passed. He sat, and Nick, always the watchful sentry, stood beside him.

Nick spoke up, "I'm glad you think this is funny, but I don't get the joke."

Mendez shook his head, still laughing a little. "Misunderstandings."

Cody was ready for a little sharing of information. "Yes, apparently."

"I thought you left the threats; you thought we did."

Cody took less than half a blink to note that Mendez thought of himself and Carritas as one unit just as Nick and Cody did.

Nick was still tense. He didn't react well to anyone threatening Cody or Murray. "Yeah, still not seeing the humor, pal."

Mendez sobered, "You explained; it is my turn. Ed's family is in debt because they borrowed money to bet on volleyball tournaments. They expected him to cheat so they would win. He refused—and we withdrew from those tournaments—so they lost all their money and more besides. Then they threatened him—his own family. He's not been home since. I'm not sure he'll ever go back."

Cody blew out a breath in wonder. He glanced at Nick who looked surprised and sympathetic.

Mendez continued, "Ed would never threaten the integrity of a tournament. He's sacrificed too much since his family…did what they did. So when you suspected him, you did not know how impossible it is that he is responsible."

Cody shook his head, "We suspected you, you suspected us, and neither is possible."

"Yes. I am sorry. About the knife."

Cody started to answer, but Nick did instead. "I'm sorry about breaking into his locker. It was my idea. It's just—he's so intense during the matches. I've never seen anyone play like that. And he doesn't seem to be friendly with anyone. When we found out about his family owing so much money, well…"

Mendez dropped his gaze, "He didn't used to be like this. It is only since his family betrayed him. Their actions took much of his enjoyment of the game. He is distrustful because of them."

Cody conceded that. "Makes sense now. Listen, we really are sorry."

Mendez stood up and offered his hand. "It also makes sense to me. We will all agree to be sorry and put it behind us. Yes?"

Cody shook his hand, "Agreed."

Nick also shook hands, "Agreed. We'll see you at the reception tonight, right? Maybe we can officially meet your partner."

Mendez offered a sad smile. "I hope so. He doesn't frequently come to the social gatherings, but perhaps I will be able to persuade him."

Cody shared a look with Nick as Mendez left the locker room. Tough way to find out information, but at least they could mark Carritas and Mendez off their list of suspects.

Nick reached up and gently pulled Cody's nose to one side. "Did it hurt?"

Cody pulled his head back in annoyance, "Of course it hurt. It was a knife!"

"No blood."

"Just because it's not bleeding doesn't mean it didn't hurt."

"Well, maybe next time you won't let him get the drop on you."

"Let him—! If you hadn't been taking your sweet time with that black bag job—"

"Taking my time? That was an Abloy lock. Did you see that? Those things are nearly impossible to pick!"

As their 'argument' continued, Cody caught Nick's look of assessment, the gleam of relief that Cody was okay. A look that expressed how thankful he was that Cody was all right even if Nick didn't say the actual words. And the ridiculous back and forth they both engaged in was always a balm to Cody, telling him that everything was normal and right in their world. It covered over the anxiety and the relief of a close call. A reassurance for them both. A partner that didn't bitch and fuss was a partner that still needed help


	6. Chapter 6

Cody unlocked the wheelhouse doors. Unlike Nick, Boz could be counted on not to leave them wide open. "Boz? You here?" Cody called out just in case Murray was so wrapped up in his research that he didn't hear them or feel the boat roll when they'd stepped onboard.

"Down here, guys."

When they walked in the computer room, Murray was typing away on his keyboard, the printer was humming and spitting out pages of data, and random machines were beeping and blinking. Of course, Boz would disagree with the term, 'random,' and then describe exactly what each different piece did. Something like, "That's a cyclo-animatronic relay processor communicating with the modulating microwave…" And Nick would roll his eyes and say, "It's the what's-it doodah talking to the blah-blah thing-a-ma-jig."

Funny thing was that despite the way he still teased Boz, Nick had picked up a little about Murray's computers over the years. It started as a way to get back at Cody when he went a little overboard with Baby Katie, but once Nick decided to follow Murray's long-winded explanations (instead of just tuning them out), he actually began to catch on. And when he started learning, he didn't let go. Granted, he still didn't slave over the systems and study Boz's manuals, but he also didn't _completely_ blow off Murray's complicated technical explanations any more either.

And truthfully, Cody had tried to absorb some of the information himself. When Murray got kidnapped by Deedee Giddian and Uptown Bill Brown, Cody desperately wished he'd known how to use Boz's equipment in the _Mimi_. He'd been terrified they would lose Murray because he hadn't been paying attention, and he'd ended up just punching random buttons while holding the equipment like he'd seen Murray do. Fortunately, by sheer luck, it sort of worked. After that, Cody tried to pay a little closer attention to what Boz was doing when they were in the helicopter.

At any rate, Murray glanced up when they walked in. "Hey, I got some really good information here."

"That's great, Murray. Oh, and we can scratch Eduardo Carritas from the suspect list."

"Oh? What'd you find out?"

"That his family borrowed money to bet on volleyball, and Carritas refused to cheat; that's why they're in so much debt."

"Really? Imagine your own family trying to use you that way…"

"Yeah. I'd probably never want to play again if it was me. So what'd you find out?"

Boz looked thoughtful, "Actually, our best suspect might be doing something quite similar."

Cody caught Nick's eye, "How so?"

"Well, it's kind of a long story. First let me explain my methodology."

Nick sighed, rubbing his shoulder. "Can't we just skip to the important part?"

"Nick, I really think you and Cody should be aware of how I reach my conclusions. You might have another idea that makes even more sense."

"Murray, you know more about all the different kinds of logic than anyone I know. I trust you."

"And I appreciate that, Nick, but how many times have we seen people act completely illogically? If there's anything I've learned from you and Cody, it's that sometimes you have to go with your instincts."

At Nick's pained look, Cody fought a grin. "That sounds… _logical_ , buddy."

Nick's face promised Cody retribution. "Okay, Boz, I'm all ears."

Murray grinned like a little kid. He was a born teacher and purely loved explanations. "So when I left Jimmy Wu's—which by the way, that's a very nice set-up he has. We discussed the different ways he might use computers in his work. I offered to consult for him—"

Simultaneously, " _Murray!_ "

Boz snapped back on point. "Sorry. So James—he asked me to call him that—had narrowed the list to about twenty people after going through his books and the wagers of the other… _business-people_ …who agreed to help. Unfortunately, two of these likely suspects are foreign nationals. It's more difficult to get information on them. Well, it's not that it's more difficult really, it's just that the data is in a foreign language. Of course, I have translation programs, but it takes longer to obtain the information as a result of the extra steps, plus waiting on the satellites to move into the right position and for the local traffic to ease off so they don't notice I'm poking around. I mean, clearly it can be done as I was able to get the information on the Carritas family, but it's a bit more complicated and time consuming."

Nick still blood shot eyes began to glaze over. Cody let out a deep breath and patted Nick's back. They just had to let Murray run his course.

"So anyway, because of the extra time involved, I put the two people from outside the country on the back burner so to speak, and I concentrated on the Americans. And I believe I may have found our culprit."

Cody leaned over to study what Boz was looking at on the screen.

"Harold Ottaviano."

Nick narrowed his eyes, "Who is he?"

Murray pointed to the screen, "According to the IRS, he works in shipping in south Florida and makes about sixty thousand a year."

Uneasy, Cody glanced at Nick, "Shipping. In south Florida. Is that another way of saying Import/Export? Smuggling?"

Boz nodded briefly, "I think so. One of the former partners in Ottaviano's company went to prison for racketeering."

Nick's head dropped straight to his chest in utter defeat, "Great. The Mob."

"Looks like it."

Cody sighed and closed his eyes in regret. Why did this always happen?

Nick rubbed his eyes again, "So why do you think the Bent Nose Brigade is involved?"

Murray shrugged slightly, "I don't think they are; just Harold Ottaviano who also happens to be part of The Mob."

Cody tried to follow Murray's trail. When he still didn't get it, he glanced at Nick to assess his understanding…but his partner looked lost, too. Cody turned back to Murray. "I think you're gonna have to explain that, Boz. Ottaviano is mobbed up, but The Mob's not rigging the tournament?"

"That's my guess. He might be using mob intimidation techniques and maybe even a few personnel, but I don't think any of his Miami cronies are in on this."

Nick looked hopelessly confused, "Why not?"

Murray's smile was triumphant, "None of them have made wagers—at least not sizeable ones. _And_ because it appears that Harold Ottaviano is Justin Decker's birth father."

Cody ran Justin Decker through his mental rolodex and finally placed the name. He was half of a volleyball team from Florida. "Decker and Newton?"

Murray nodded with a crafty grin. "Justin Decker is Ottaviano's illegitimate son."

Nick's mouth dropped open, and Cody blinked in shock, "How do you know that?"

Murray pulled a stack of pages from a pile that looked just like every other pile on his desk. "Educated guess. I was researching Ottaviano's bank records after it appeared that he was living far above his reported income. You know, I really don't understand why the IRS doesn't do more audits when the evidence is so overwhelming. Anyway, I started tracing his bank transactions through the years, and I found regular checks written to a Ms. Marilyn Decker that began just before her son, Justin, was born. The checks continued monthly through his college graduation. It seemed pretty clear."

"I wonder if Decker is aware of who his father is?"

Murray shrugged and pushed his glasses up his nose, "I've not been able to clarify that. I can't establish any clear contact between them."

"Not at all?" Once he'd said it, Cody tried to figure out how Murray could go about finding proof. Cody couldn't think of anything himself, but he was used to Murray working miracles.

"Sorry, Cody. The only irrefutable way I've come up with would be if we asked him or his mother."

Cody shook his head, "If Decker doesn't already know, we could ruin the guy's life."

Nick folded his arms, "If we find out Ottaviano is behind all this, his life will be screwed for a while anyway."

Murray agreed, "Here's what I think: Ottaviano has been watching Justin grow up, supporting him financially with checks to his mother, and now that Justin has become firmly involved in beach volleyball, Ottaviano decided to help his kid along by getting the better teams to drop out. And if he can also make an easy buck at the same time, so much the better."

Cody sighed, mulling over the new information. He glanced at Nick who looked unhappy. "We're gonna have to talk to Decker tonight. See what he knows about his father."

"And we'll have to go to Quinlan. He's gonna need information about Ottaviano and his mob buddies in Florida."

Cody's next sigh was even deeper.

While Nick was in the shower, Cody went through the salon. Still no sign of the cookies. The head was really too small to hide the package, and Murray's area was generally off limits to most of his and Nick's shenanigans. Plus, there was an excellent chance Boz might find the cookies and eat them himself, so Cody doubted Nick would hide them in there.

If Nick had managed to get the cookies rewrapped in an airtight container, he might have stored them somewhere on deck. Another idea was the engine compartment, but Cody didn't have the time to inspect it at the moment. He had to get ready for the reception, too. Regardless, he still wasn't ready to give up the quest for Joyce Harwell's cookies.


	7. Chapter 7

That evening found Nick and Cody in the ball room of the event hotel. Murray had been tasked with talking to Quinlan. Just because the computer programmer and police lieutenant mixed like oil and water didn't mean that Murray wasn't the best man for the job. After all, he was the one who'd generated the information about Harold Ottaviano. Still, Cody was glad he had to be at the reception instead.

There was going to be a large buffet later, and the open bar was already seeing very good business. People were eating hors d'oeuvres and mingling, laughing in the way of people who see each other on a semi-regular basis. The men outnumbered the women about two to one, but there was a good number of wives and steady girl-friends in attendance along with what appeared to be a few groupies.

Alex Reed walked over to Cody. "How's it going?"

Cody grinned, swallowing the last bite of a stuffed mushroom, "Pretty good."

Reed bit his lip hopefully, "Any suspects?"

Cody hedged, "Maybe."

"Really? Who?"

Cody shook his head slightly, "Could turn out to be nothing. We've still got a ways to go."

Reed looked disappointed, "Oh." He shoved in another morsel of food.

Cody glanced around, wishing everyone had on name tags. "Alex, can you point out Justin Decker and Mark Newton?"

Reed looked horrified. "They _can't_ be involved."

"I didn't say they were; I just need to talk to them."

"Cody, you're wrong."

"Alex, take it easy, man. I just need to talk to them."

Reed didn't look like he believed Cody entirely, but he looked around the large room. "Over there by the dessert table, talking to Anson and Jeffers."

Cody's eyes searched till he found the four giants. "Okay, thanks."

Reed caught his arm again, "I'm telling you, it's not them."

Cody rolled his eyes, amused by how protective Reed was of the players. "I got it."

On his way across the room, he ran into Rusty Wise, "Hey, guy. Where's Tim?"

Rusty smiled, "Stayed home with his mom."

Cody nodded in approval, knowing it would put Nick's mind at ease. "Can you introduce me to some of the other American teams?"

Rusty glanced around and immediately moved in the direction of Anson and Jeffers, Decker and Newton, as they were nearest. Just as Cody had expected.

"Hey guys, have you met Cody Allen?"

The four men all turned and smiled. Anson wiped his hand clean and stuck it out. "Didn't I see you guys get clobbered by Ed and Iggy this morning?"

Cody grimaced at the painful remembrance of their recent encounters—both on the sand and in the locker room. "Iggy? How can a guy that big be called, 'Iggy?'"

All four of them chuckled, "Doesn't seem natural, does it? Believe me, we've all been there."

Cody caught Rusty's eye and shook his head slightly before lowering his voice, "Hey, I heard a few teams have received threats; have you guys heard anything like that?"

Anson and Jeffers glanced at each other uneasily while Decker and Newton just looked alarmed. "What? Who?"

Jeffers snuck a glance around the room, "I found one in my room."

Anson seemed worried, "In your _bath_ room."

The concern displayed by Decker and Newton appeared genuine, and Cody was fairly convinced this was the first they'd heard of it. He gave the silent okay to Rusty who finally spoke up, "We got one, too."

Their soft exclamations didn't draw a crowd, but there was some fast discussion between the six of them, Cody mostly just listening and observing.

Later that evening, Cody and Nick sat down where Justin Decker and Mark Newton were eating their dinner.

Nick looked around with a grin, "You guys aren't married, so where are your dates?"

Newton smiled, "Neither are you, and this is your home turf."

Cody laughed, "The girls around here have already heard our lines. We're old news. But you guys are fresh meat. And…very tall."

They both chuckled, but Decker shook his head, "Keep it in your pants the night before a match."

Newton nodded, "I used to know a team who went out and partied every night; neither of them is still playing."

The whole table of players nodded in agreement.

Cody asked another question, hoping they'd gotten familiar enough to keep anyone from being on guard, "What about your families? Do they ever come with you? Get to see you play?"

Nick nodded, "Yeah, this is Tim's hometown, so his mom is here, but I don't think she gets to see him play too often."

Newton shrugged, "I'm from Fort Lauderdale; most of my family still lives there."

"Big family?"

"Huge. But we travel so much, I don't get to see them very often."

Cody looked at Justin, "What about your family?" Mental fingers crossed.

He smiled softly, "Just me and my mom."

"What about your father?"

"He died in the army; no other family. It's just the two of us. She's in Tampa."

Cody sighed in relief, "How often does she get to see you play?"

He shrugged, "Three, four times a year, depending on where we're playing."

Nick cleared his throat, "My father took off when I was little. He once sent me a post card from Miami. That's pretty much all I know about Florida. You guys know anyone who lives down there?"

Justin shook his head, "No. The only time I've really spent in Miami is when we've had tournaments there. Mark?"

His partner shrugged, "About the same. I've visited friends a few times. Been through the airport."

Cody caught Nick's eye, nodding that he was satisfied. Nick looked back at their companions. "Well, if my old man was there, can't be much to recommend it."

At the end of the night, Reed and Olatidoye stepped to the podium with a large fish bowl filled with tickets. Reed leaned over to the microphone, "Okay, guys. Time to draw the brackets."

Olatidoye's huge smile shined brightly, his whatever accent echoing around the room, "We have chosen the top seeds based on each team's records at sanctioned tournaments over the last twelve months. The top seeds in the four brackets are: Harwell and Wise, Carritas and Mendez, McAvoy and Patterson, and Boyle and Radford. All the rest of the teams are in this bowl, and we'll draw out each bracket randomly.

Cody leaned forward, excited despite everything including getting clobbered by the Brazilians. Nick glanced his way, and Cody saw that same spark in his partner. Cody couldn't help but chuckle softly at how similar he and Nick were even in stupid stuff like this. A tournament they had no chance of winning—that Nick never even wanted to enter—yet nervous anticipation crackled off them both. And remembering that similarity, Cody was reminded of Boz's statement that they couldn't hide anything from each other. Logically, he should easily find the cookies.

But back at the podium, Alex and Jace were pulling out teams and populating the brackets. When it was all said and done, Nick and Cody were slated for the third match of the day on court three against a team from Australia. Cody had seen them practice earlier in the week. They were pretty good, and he and Nick would likely be out of the tournament the following afternoon. Not that it mattered, but still…

Just before the evening ended, Reed cleared his throat. "Listen up, people. We've all worked really hard to get here. Some of you may have heard that a few teams have received threats to get them to drop out. We've notified the police and hired some outside help to find whoever's responsible.

"So please, keep an eye out for the other teams and their families. We want this tournament to be the coolest thing King Harbor has ever seen. But we want everyone to go home safely.

"Take care, play well, and have a great time. Good luck tomorrow!"


	8. Chapter 8

Bright and early the following morning, the three detectives of the Riptide Agency were at police headquarters familiarizing themselves with photos Quinlan had obtained of Harold Ottaviano and the flunkies he'd mostly likely bring with him. Looking at Ottaviano, there seemed a pretty clear resemblance to Justin Decker. Given the information Murray found—and that Murray was the one who dug it up—it was good enough proof of paternity for Cody. Once he, Nick, and Boz had memorized the faces they were looking for, they asked the lieutenant about his security.

Being Quinlan, he grumbled and scoffed, but in the end, he showed them his plans and a map of the tournament area, indicating where he would have men stationed. Given his usual level of disdain, Cody was grateful for the relatively generous cooperation. One glance at Nick, and Cody could see he wasn't quite sure of Quinlan's about-face either. They both looked at Murray who only offered them a small, quizzical twitch of his lips. All the signs said that somehow Boz had worked a minor miracle in their least favorite police officer.

The three of them and Quinlan headed to the beach; Cody and the guys walked while Quinlan insisted on driving. They strolled past him as he tried to force his unmarked car into an already overflowing parking lot. Cody guessed that quite a few illegally parked cars would be impounded before very much longer. And those cars might be joined by a few others that were legally parked but just happened to be in a certain lieutenant's way.

They checked in at tournament headquarters before the matches got started. Quinlan finally showed up and received the final schedule of events so that he could make sure he had men around the teams who'd received threats. And of course, Cody, Nick, and Boz would be on the lookout as well. There wasn't much else they could do at this point.

The top seeds were all awarded first match of the day: Tim and Rusty were playing on court one; Carritas and Mendez, McAvoy and Patterson, and Boyle and Radford were on courts two through four. So Nick joined Joyce and watched Tim and Rusty. Cody stood on the sidelines of the match featuring Carritas and Mendez. Millard Murray Fillmore sat with Sharon McAvoy, and they watched her husband and his partner. Which left the rest of the teams in the capable hands of Ted Quinlan and his men.

And…nothing happened. Other than the four top seeds handily beating all four opposing teams. Though he stood barely ten feet from the court boundary, Cody saw almost none of the match as his eyes roamed the stands, the crowds, the beach, the water, the surrounding buildings, and what little he could see of the parking lot crowded with cars.

Nothing.

Cody tried to take the view that no news was good news, but it didn't feel that way. He couldn't help but think there was more to come.

Another glance around the beach. Still nothing.

And the pattern continued through the morning. Cody occasionally checked in with his partners and the cops as they roamed the four continuously active volleyball courts. Nothing suspicious happened, and there was no sign of Harold Ottaviano or his men.


	9. Chapter 9

Cody palmed the volleyball and took a quick look at the crowd. Millard Murray was sitting midway up the stands with the McAvoys and Ian Patterson. Tim Harwell and Rusty Wise had good seats with Tim's mom on the left side down front. Reed and Olatidoye were standing behind the court, watching over everything. Quinlan supposedly had officers watching the other top seeds.

The team Cody and Nick were playing should have easily beaten them, but the Australians were having all kinds of problems. And the duo of Allen and Ryder had such a sweet rhythm going that nearly everything was falling their way. All their shots hit just inside the line or were a hairsbreadth from being returnable. And they were making some unbelievable plays on their side of the net. They'd _never_ had such a run. Plus, Nick and Cody were the hometown boys with all the local fans rooting for them. Loudly. Which was maybe a little tough on the Australians. Cody checked the score and saw that he and Nick were up eight points in the second game after taking the first handily. If they won out, they'd win the match and actually advance to the next round. At the beginning of the week, he'd never dreamt they might be here.

Cody's serve was just barely returned by their opponents, and Nick's set was perfect. Cody hammered a shot straight down the line for their fifteenth point. He slapped hands with Nick and collected the ball. As he started to name their next play, Cody noticed that his partner suddenly wasn't paying attention. Nick's eyes were sweeping the stands in consternation.

Always nervous whenever Nick became anxious, Cody glanced up to see what was wrong. "What?"

"Where are Tim and Rusty? Joyce is sitting by herself."

Cody scanned the bleachers and found their friends now sitting on the other side of the stands, talking to a pretty lady reporter from San Diego. Cody had seen her hanging around since early in the week. He nodded in their direction, "Over there, buddy."

Nick finally saw them and nodded.

After that tiny hiccup, their lead began to erode since Nick was now a little distracted. Cody tried to refocus him on the game, but it didn't seem to matter; Nick was keeping an eye on Joyce despite the fact that her son was mere yards away and she was surrounded by other spectators. And Nick's preoccupation threw off their earlier rhythm.

Their lead was down to four, and Cody was just hoping that they could finish the game—and maybe still win the match—when Nick suddenly went on alert. He searched the stands, clearly concerned, then abruptly sprinted off. "Cody! Tim! They've got her! Over there!"

It happened so fast that Cody was caught flat-footed. A quick glance to where Joyce had been sitting, and he saw she was gone. Without a thought, he took off after his partner, trusting that Nick must have seen her. The audience sat in shock as they ran off the court, and Cody could hear the announcer sputtering, trying to come up with a reason why they had just ditched the game.

Finally, Cody caught a glimpse of their quarry: at least fifty feet in front of Nick was petite Joyce Harwell, struggling with two large men as they dragged her into a car in the packed parking lot. The two guys jumped in, gunned the engine, and took off.

Nick didn't even break stride. Cody saw that their only chance to catch up was their greater maneuverability. On foot, Nick and Cody could slip between cars and cut the distance to their targets. Although how they were going to stop a car was anyone's guess since they didn't have weapons in their swim trunks. No doubt Murray had caught on to what was going on and he had his gun, but Cody was under no illusion that Boz would be able to catch up before the car hit the street.

The sedan slid around the end of an aisle of vehicles, and Cody lost sight of it. But ahead of him, Nick poured on the speed. And suddenly, Cody realized exactly what his partner planned to do. No, damn it! They'd talked about this, and Nick had agreed: _No more jumping on moving cars! Damn it, Nick! No!_

But as Cody trailed a good twenty-five or thirty yards, he saw Nick rush between two parked cars, take a running leap, and land on the roof of the bad guys' car as it went past. He slid for a split second then grabbed the roof and the driver's window and hung on as the car sped ahead. Cody saw Nick reach inside the open window in an attempt to interfere with the driver's control. Which meant the stupid idiot was hanging on with only one hand!

Cody kept following—it was a lot easier to keep track of the car with Nick on top. Plus, it kept bouncing off various bumpers and fenders as it skidded from side to side like in a demolition derby. Of course, when it bounced, Nick bounced right along with it. Cody's heart was pounding, but he wasn't sure if it was because of the sprint from the beach or from watching Nick risk his life…and being unable to do a damn thing to help.

As Cody tore after the car, he saw the driver had picked up speed as he reached the outer aisles of the lot. Cody climbed over a couple of parked cars, trying to get ahead of the driver who was flying along the far end of the lot. As Cody watched, the bad guy tried to negotiate a weird angle along the end of the aisle, but he lost control of the speeding car. It slid sideways into two steel bollards put up to protect a cinderblock wall and the fire hydrant in front of it. The car hit the posts at full speed and came to an abrupt, crunching stop. Nick flew off the passenger side, over the bollards _and_ the wall, and disappeared on the other side. "Nick!"

The two kidnappers scrambled out of the disabled car and fled down the aisle. Without stopping, Cody spared them a long enough glance to see they weren't coming back, and then he closed in on the car. In the sudden void of silence, he could hear Tim and Rusty behind him, calling for Joyce. Seeing her scoot toward the door of the car, Cody catalogued that she seemed to be okay, and he jumped on the hood of the car and vaulted the wall, desperate to find his partner. "Nick!"

Nick had fallen down the other side of the divider which was about six feet high on that side, and then into a ditch beside the road. He lay in a heap at the bottom, a drop of nine or ten feet altogether. Cody skidded down the bank, praying his idiot partner hadn't done serious damage to himself. Only…Nick wasn't moving. And Cody held his breath, a little afraid to touch him, terrified of what he might find.

A silent prayer…then, "Nick? Talk to me, buddy." Cody finally stretched out a still hesitant hand to the nearest shoulder—dirt, bruises, and scrapes discoloring the tanned skin of his back.

A grunt.

And Cody closed his eyes in sudden, overwhelmed relief. Nick was an idiot…but he was half of Cody's world. Half that Cody couldn't do without. And despite flaunting the odds, Nick had apparently managed to survive being ridiculously stupid. Again. Cody wanted to both slug him and hug him for being such a damn foolish hero.

"What hurts, big guy?"

A groan as Nick eased over and ground out, "Everything."

Cody released a pent up breath as practiced hands ran over Nick's arms and legs. "Just lie still. Anywhere in particular?"

"Hands. Shoulder. Back. Hip." He opened his eyes, looking up at Cody, "I'm okay, man; just got the wind knocked outta me."

"Let me see those hands."

Just as he reached to look, he heard a call from above. Boz sounded frantic. "Cody? Is he okay?"

Nick started to get up, but Cody aimed a severe look in his direction that stopped all movement. "I think he's all right. Just gimme a sec to check him over." Nick's palms were scraped, filthy, and bleeding where the skin had rubbed off, but the bones all seemed to be intact. Nick shifted slightly, and Cody checked his pelvis, making sure the hips didn't move in ways they weren't supposed to. He helped Nick to stand and dusted off his back, finding the beginnings of all the bruises and scrapes that would result from the fall.

They slowly climbed the embankment, finding Boz, Tim, Rusty, and Joyce all looking over the wall anxiously. "Are you all right?" was the general chorus.

Nick pasted on a smile, but Cody could tell he was having to work for it. "Yeah."

Cody gave him a boost, and Nick was helped on the other side by Boz and Rusty. When Cody climbed over, he found his partner sandwiched in a three-way hug between Joyce and Tim Harwell. They were both crying.

When the embrace ended, Tim cupped Nick's neck. "Mom, anytime you want to adopt him, I'm fine with that."

Joyce sobbed and buried her head in Tim's shoulder, never letting go of Nick. But Cody could see the discomfort on Nick's face despite his efforts to hide it.

"Okay, we can do the _Leave It to Beaver_ scene later; we gotta deal with those hands, buddy. They're a mess."

By then, Reed and Olatidoye had rushed up with Quinlan and a few of his uniforms.

As usual, Quinlan was full of bluster. "Let me guess; you clowns managed to lose the perps, right?"

Cody would long remember the complete astonishment on the faces of everybody but the partners of the Riptide Detective Agency. "Yes, Lieutenant, but we saved the car. Surely a man of your…abilities…will be able to trace the car back to the bad guys."

Tim bristled, "And, by the way, they did save my mother from being kidnapped."

"Even dimwits get lucky once in a while." Cody couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw the corners of Quinlan's mouth raise just a bit. Maybe. "I'll get on with the heavy lifting so the volleyball players can get back to their game."

Tim looked ready to erupt, but Murray deftly stepped in front to block him from going against Quinlan who lifted his chin just barely in Nick and Cody's direction and then turned around to speak to his men about getting a team to deal with the car.

Nick carefully extracted himself from the Harwell family, looking at Cody significantly.

He and Nick were on the same page, and Cody turned to Quinlan. "Lieutenant, have your men found Ottaviano?"

Quinlan mumbled into his radio. Then, "What do you mean you _lost_ him? _Find_ him or you're going to _find out_ what it's like being a meter maid till you _retire!_ " He glanced back and shook his head once in frustration. "They had him, and they lost him."

Cody looked around, "Boz, is Sharon with her husband?"

Murray was tense, "Yeah."

"Quinlan? Carritas and Mendez, Boyle and Radford, Anson and Jeffers; still got men on them?"

Another mutter into the radio with a couple of seconds for responses, and then Quinlan nodded once.

Murray snapped his fingers, "Decker and Newton should be playing right about now."

"Good thinking, Boz!" Cody turned to Nick again, "You gonna be okay?"

Nick looked torn and dissatisfied at the prospect of being left behind, but there was no way he could keep up after going over that wall. Nick's eyes, always so easy to read, were an open book. _Be careful; I'm not gonna be there._ But his only outward response was a delayed nod.

Cody offered his partner a sad smile and then he and Murray hurried through the parking lot. Cody had enjoyed seeing Quinlan go ballistic at the crowded parking area, but he'd never imagined that all those cars squeezed inside the enclosed lot would be the reason they'd prevent a kidnapping. That and having a complete moron for a partner.

Cody ran back to the beach, "Which court, Boz?"

"Two!"

Naturally. That was the court furthest from the parking area. Hence, if the flunkies managed to notify Ottaviano and his other men that they'd failed in the kidnap attempt, they would have more time to get away as Cody and the police tried to close in.

Cody slowed to a jog as he approached the stands for court two. Murray closed in behind, and the two of them did a quick scan of the bleachers. When he didn't see Ottaviano, Cody turned to search the area behind the stands that led to the parking lot as Murray looked over the beach.

"Cody! There!" Boz was pointing at three men walking away, down the beach, wearing polo shirts and shorts.

"Are you sure?"

Murray nodded vigorously, and, trusting his third partner, Cody took off after them. They had a good head start, and he suddenly realized he had no idea how he might stop them. Or hold them. Or—

The matter was taken out of his hands when one of the three men saw him, then sprinted away.

The man Cody finally recognized as Harold Ottaviano yelled out, "Idiot! What are you running for?"

The guy turned around uncertainly, "They're coming after us, boss."

"We ain't done nothing, you lug. They can't hold us."

The man who'd started running looked at Cody accusingly as he finally caught up. "Yeah, that's right. You can't hold us."

Cody took a deep breath, casting about for a good reason why they couldn't leave, when his musings were suddenly interrupted.

"He can't, but I can."

Quinlan jogged up with a couple of officers. "Mr. Ottaviano, to what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Officer. I'm just here to take in the sights of your lovely little town."

"Oh, really. Enjoy volleyball, do you?"

Ottaviano paused for a split second, "As a matter of fact…" followed by a quick nod.

"I'll just _bet_ you do." Quinlan glanced around, "Got a favorite team?"

Ottaviano's eyes narrowed slightly, "No."

"No? You didn't put any money on this little tournament?"

The mobster studied Quinlan, "That's none of your business."

The police lieutenant looked smug, "I think it _is_ my business. I think we have a lot of _business_ to discuss. Perhaps you'd like to get out of the heat?" Quinlan extended a hand back toward tournament headquarters.

Ottaviano eyed the lieutenant, his men, and Cody, and then he stalked back across the sand, his men following with the police close behind.

Cody let out a breath and glanced around for Boz. He found him on the near side of the bleachers, one hand firmly clamped around Nick's elbow. Cody didn't have to wonder why; he knew is partner better than himself—Nick had caught up and was planning to jump in as Cody's backup before Quinlan arrived.

Cody walked back to his relieved partners. "I think that's it. If Quinlan can trace the car to Ottaviano and his men and Joyce can identify her kidnappers, that should take care of it."

Murray shrugged, "I'm not sure what else to do except let the police finish this up."

Cody nodded, "Our job was to find out who was sending the threats and stop them. We did that. Now, the tournament can continue without interference. Even if Quinlan can't get enough to charge them, by the time they're released, the tournament will be over."

Nick's strong sense of justice wasn't satisfied, though. "Yeah, but—"

Cody couldn't stop the pointed finger, "You're benched, buddy."

"But—"

"I'm not listening." Cody lightly put his hands on Nick's shoulders and turned him back toward headquarters, pushing with only the slightest pressure.

"Cody!"

Murray settled in on Nick's other side and looked at him critically. "We really need to get those scrapes cleaned before they get infected."

Nick looked at both of them in wordless plea/protest, but he evidently found no sign of leniency. He finally just threw his hands up and dropped his head in surrender.

As they approached headquarters, they found an anxious group waiting. Reed, Olatidoye, Rusty, and the Harwells exclaimed when the three of them walked up.

"We saw Quinlan come back with three guys. Was that them?" Tim was easily the most nervous of the bunch. Cody figured having his mother almost kidnapped while he was sitting on the other side of the stands was probably one of life's moments-of-truth.

Cody smiled as Murray started to explain. He'd done the lion's share of the investigating on this case, and he deserved the limelight. Besides, Cody was tired, and he knew Nick was flagging.

"That should take care of it. A gambler was trying to skew the tournament results. We figured a couple of men were probably working with him, so if Joyce can pick out the men who took her and the lieutenant can tie them to the car, that should wrap it up."

Rusty blurted out the next question, "Who was it? Anyone connected with the tournament?"

Boz sent a brief glance toward Cody and Nick before he cleared his throat. "Well, I imagine there will probably be charges from this, and we wouldn't want to cause the police or District Attorney any problems by discussing it prematurely. We really shouldn't get into it. Especially since Joyce hasn't given her statement yet."

Tim and Rusty appeared ready to protest, but Joyce placed a hand on their arms. "Of course. We understand." She eyed both her boys sternly and then turned back to Nick, "Are you all right?"

He nodded, "Yes, ma'am."

She looked him over with a mother's knowing eye. "I think you're lying, but I don't care; I love you anyway. Now let's get you cleaned up."


	10. Chapter 10

Despite heroic efforts on her part, all the guys insisted that Joyce remain outside the locker room. There were other teams inside that wouldn't appreciate her presence, regardless of the whole _Mom_ thing. And fortunately, more of Quinlan's detectives showed up to get statements just about then, so she was otherwise occupied anyway.

Cody stayed close to Nick in the shower. He seemed all right, but Cody couldn't stop replaying the frightening image of Nick flying off the roof of the car. Over and over again.

As always, Nick could feel his gaze. "I'm okay."

Unable to dismiss his fear, Cody's voice was quiet and a little shaky, "I thought we agreed: no more Nick-jumps-on-a-moving-car-and-scares-the-pants-off-Cody."

Nick sighed and turned off the water. "We did."

Cody turned his shower off, too. "I knew what you were gonna do even before you did it." He blew out a frustrated breath, "You know how scary it is, knowing your partner's about to do something dangerously stupid, and not be able to help."

Nick winced and looked away, "I know, but I didn't—"

"Didn't see any other way to stop them. I get it. But if Boz were here, he'd give you statistics on how likely it is you'll be able to stop a car with that move. Or how likely you are to end up dead or maimed from that kind of stupid stunt. And point out that you've never been successful at it before, so why did you expect it would work this time?"

Nick's gaze was tentative. "I didn't really think. I just knew I had to slow 'em down; then maybe you could stop 'em. And this time it actually did work."

Cody sighed, "Yeah; you also scared about ten years off my life."

Nick looked contrite, "Cody, I'm sorry; but I couldn't just let 'em take her…"

Cody studied his partner. While careful in the extreme with other people, Nick had always been reckless and unselfish with himself, and Cody didn't wish him any different. Truth be told, Cody had frequently depended on that particular behavior to pull his own ass out of the fire. But he needed Nick to listen and understand. "I know. 'Cause I know how you are and what you gotta do. But please…try to remember there are people who need and love _you,_ too, okay?"

Nick's smile was tender and apologetic. "Yeah. I got it."

From the locker room, Boz's voice echoed, "Nick? Cody? I've got the peroxide and bandages. You guys about done?"

This time, Nick's wince looked pained, "Ah, man…"

Cody chuckled, "You do the crime, buddy…"

Nick rolled his eyes, looking tired, "Yeah, yeah."

Most of the afternoon was spent at the station giving statements. The Harwells invited the _Riptide_ boys to dinner that night, but Cody could easily see that Tim was only doing it for his mother's benefit. He clearly needed time alone with her, so they declined, agreeing to come over the following evening instead. Besides, it had been a busy few days for Cody and the guys, and they were wiped out. There was no way they were up to being sociable that evening, so when they finished with Quinlan, they headed back to the beach to give the final word to their clients.

Alex and Jace reported that despite everything, the day had gone well. A tournament meeting was scheduled that evening to update all the teams on the events of the day, and after talking with their private detectives, the two were optimistic that the rest of the event would proceed with only the excitement of the competition.

No one had yet been able to ascertain if Justin Decker was aware of how the events involved him. He and his partner had won their match, and Quinlan had plans to bring him in at some point. Reed and Olatidoye were certain that Decker knew nothing about what was going on and hoped to convince Quinlan to put off his interview till after the tournament. At any rate, the Riptide Detective Agency had wrapped up their portion of the case and could now just enjoy the rest of the competition from the sidelines. Since they'd forfeited their match and all.

They discussed stopping for dinner on their way back to the boat, but just as Cody knew he wasn't up to being sociable with the Harwells, he didn't think dinner at Straightaways was all that great an idea either. Nick was dragging and Boz didn't seem very enthusiastic, so they ended up grabbing a couple of pizzas on their way back to the boat.

Cody was in the galley getting drinks while Boz organized plates and napkins. Nick called down, "Hey, grab those cookies while you're down there!"

Cody narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to put himself inside his partner's twisted mind. Half a second later, it came to him, and he opened the cabinet to the cookie jar. There was the package. Behind him, he heard Murray crack up. Unable to stop his own smile, Cody shook his head wryly, wondering where Nick had hidden them before he moved them to the most obvious place on the boat, the first place Cody had looked.

Not that it mattered. Nick and Boz were both still around to twist him up in knots; everything else was gravy. Or cookies. Cody started laughing with Boz, and he grabbed their drinks—and dessert—and followed Murray up to the salon.


End file.
